


It's an Unmerry Time with Maxwell Around

by xBooxBooxBear



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: A Wild Maxwell appearing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Party, Christmas fic, Comedy, Cute Ending, Daddy!Wilson, Flirting, Fluff, Forced Kissing, Funny Banter, Gift Giving, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Maxwell inviting himself, Maxwell is a huge dick tho, Mistletoe, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Sass Master Wilson, This fic is like having your in-laws everyone hates showing up and being an ass to everyone, Wilson dressed up as Santa, and doing what he does best, and preying on Wilson, bad christmas gifts, cute moments, damn those cute boys, even on Wes this time, for once not a dark maxwil fic, party crasher, which is ruining everything everyone has ever loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBooxBooxBear/pseuds/xBooxBooxBear
Summary: The survivors of the Constant decide to try and cheer themselves up with a little Christmas party. When Wilson goes to thee woods to dress and portray as Santa Claus, he gets an unexpected and unwanted visit from Maxwell results in the ruler inviting himself to the party and puts a damper on everyone's mood.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wes (Don't Starve), Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve), Wes/Wilson (Don't Starve), maxwil, weswell, wilwes
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	It's an Unmerry Time with Maxwell Around

He didn’t believe in Santa Claus. What grown man did? He had long lost the childish belief that a fat man in a red suit could fly across the world, delivering presents to every kid in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. It was impossible and quite preposterous as an adult that anyone would believe in something so silly. Yet here Wilson was; dressed up as the holiday icon he no longer believed in. It was for a good cause. He was doing it for his kids. 

Life here in the Constant was hardship. It was survival of the fittest. Eat or be eaten. Lord knows they’d lost enough good people within this terrorist land. Some he’d met and grieved over. Others just unknown skeletons that befell long before his time. That was why he suggested having Christmas traditions for the kids. They needed something to enlighten and bring them joy especially the kids. 

Wilson and the other adults; Willow, Wolfgang, Wes, Ms. Wickerbottom, Woodie, Wigfrid and Warly had decided to have a Christmas party for Webber, Wendy and Abigail. It warmed Wilson’s heart seeing the kids so excited for this event. In fact, everyone seemed to be in lifted spirits. The camp was buzzing with excitement while they decorated their snowed camp with makeshift Christmas decor and ornaments. Woodie had cut down the perfect tree and brought it center to their camp. They’d popped old popcorn kernels in Warly’s crockpot then strung the popcorn with some berries around the tree. Willow had ventured underground to retrieve light flowers to act as Christmas lights for the tree. Together with Wolfgang, she managed to create ornaments from sand and, of course, fire. Their tree was the best tree Wilson had ever seen in all his years; even before their current situation.

The gentleman scientist smiled to himself as he thought about the fun their little party would bring. He couldn’t wait to hand out the presents to everyone, especially the kids. He’d found some old beaten up toys from his home world. He wondered how they’d gotten here but it probably belonged to someone once stranded here too. He’d spent the past few days fixing them up until they were as good as new. They would be playable for the kids. They’d have real toys instead of sticks tied together (they were allowed to play with Bernie once but after they accidentally ripped his arm Willow tried to set them on fire).

Wilson draped the warm red coat around his body then buttoned it up. He gazed at the imitation Santa suit. Wes and Ms. Wickerbottom did a great job replicating the suit and was honored the whole camp bestowed the role to him (he was pretty sure the main reason was because he was the only one in the camp who could grow a long beard). He was sure to do his kids proud.

He smiled and reached for the makeshift Santa hat and placed it on top of his head. He glanced at his reflection in the pond and smiled at himself. Aside from being skinny, short, young with black hair and he looked like Santa. 

“Ho ho ho” Wilson imitated Santa’s deep voice then laughed at himself. 

“What on earth are you garbed in?”

Wilson jumped with a start. He glanced over his shoulder at the voice startling him then groaned. “Ugh it’s you.”

“Why yes, it is _me._ ” Maxwell snapped back. He stared at the smaller male. “The ruler of your world.”

Wilson threw him a look. “More like the tormentor of my world.”

Maxwell grinned. His white teeth flashing from his smile, sharp and almost pointed and bared. Yet condescending and arrogant; ever so Maxwell. 

Wilson shook his head and rolled his eyes. He returned his attention to his attire. 

Maxwell remained a few feet away from the smaller male. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar tin. He pulled out a cigar, cut it, then placed it between his teeth and lit it with a lighter. He took a deep inhale, tobacco flowing down his throat into his lungs then exiting his lips in a thick cloud of smoke. He hummed in approval then focused his attention on Wilson. His black eyes falling down the young man’s frame hidden in the ridiculous garb. It was a shame he was unable to admire that thin lean shape the Higgsbury boy had. He arched a brow and stared at the preposterous red suit he wore. Sure, it was rather chilly, and the earth was fresh with a new blanket of snow. Maxwell’s own lengthy winter coat kept him warm amidst the crisp cold air he’d conjured, however, he didn’t think it required such a dramatic—yet ugly—coat. 

“Who or rather _what_ are you supposed to be?” Inquired the ruler. 

“I’m Santa Claus.” Wilson retorted. 

“Santa Claus?” Maxwell arched a brow. 

Wilson turned and threw him an expression mixed between irritation and disbelief. “You’re kidding right? You know; Santa Claus. Jolly old fat man who brings presents to good boys and girls and coal to the bad ones” Wilson sneered with a laugh. “I’m sure you got tons of coal when you were a kid.”

Maxwell scoffed. “I’m well informed of who Santa Claus, dear boy.” His black eyes falling to Wilson’s form once more. He longed to see the body hiding in such a dramatic coat. His eyes lifted to the black beard sprouting and covering such a lovely face. If only that disgusting thing wasn’t tarnishing such handsome features.

The shadow king smirked as he gawked at the face becoming uncomfortable with his presence. His smile grew and his tongue clicked in glee. He reached his hand over like he was going to caress Wilson’s face. Wilson flinched. “Say pal-” He gripped the edge of Wilson’s beard and yanked it forward. Wilson cried out as his face was pulled closer towards Maxwell. The man’s gloved hands held firmly in Wilson’s beard. His index finger twirling around the hair as he smirked back against Wilson’s glare. “-have I been naughty or nice?”

Wilson continued to stare spitefully. “Definitely naughty.” he practically spat.

Maxwell’s lips curled into a grin, teeth flashing as he brought his cigar back to his lip. He tugged on his beard, forcing Wilson closer to his face. Wilson attempted to recoil away, however, Maxwell just tugged him back and kept him in place. His black eyes flickering back and forth those whisky eyes, drinking them in. 

Again, Wilson tugged to free his face away. This time Maxwell released him with a snarky grin on his face. Wilson glowered and stroked the edge of his jaw.

“Say doll, why are you dressed in such a ridiculous attire?” Maxwell pondered. 

Wilson made a face at the nickname but otherwise ignored his question. 

“I shall yank at your beard once more if my question is unanswered.” Maxwell warned. His features holding annoyance from the lack of respect receiving from the scientist. 

Wilson groaned and rolled his eyes at the taller male. “Obviously I’m dressed like this because I’m going to pretend to be Santa Claus for the kids.” He replied sarcastically. 

Maxwell glowered. “I grow weary of your sarcasm, my dear.”

“And I grow weary of your presence! Why are you even here?”

Maxwell leaned forward and cupped Wilson’s face. A dangerous glimmer in his eye. “I was curious when I saw your fellow survivors decorating your camp in particular decor then I caught sight of you putting on that ridiculous get up.” He brought his cigar to his lips and took a huff then exhaled the smoke in Wilson’s face as he grinned arrogantly. “Say pal, are you and your survivors attempting to have a holiday party?”

“Yes.” Wilson answered honestly but with sarcasm dripping off his tongue. “We need something to cheer us up while we’re all freezing and starving.” He stared at Maxwell accusingly because yes, he was literally the reason for their suffering. 

Maxwell chuckled and huffed his stogie. 

Wilson glared. He stood straight and adjusted his attire then walked past Maxwell. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He walked away from the shadow king towards the direction of the camp. He shivered against the cold wind. He held himself as he trenched through the snow. The air smelled fresh and clean with a hint of pine. His boots crunching in the frozen rain were the only sound until he heard a second pair of crunching behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found Maxwell following. 

“What are you doing?” Inquired the scientist. 

Maxwell met his gaze and grinned. He took the cigar from his lips and replied, “Why, accompanying you of course.”

Wilson threw him a confused look. “What? Why? You weren’t invited!”

“Oh, I wasn’t?”

“No!!”

“Hmm” Maxwell pursed his lips together in thought. “That does put a damper on things, doesn’t it? Perhaps I shall retire to my domain and send the hounds and other beasts to infiltrate your festivities. Perhaps the Deerclops should pay a visit hm?”

Wilson stopped in his tracks and whirled around to stare aghast at the taller man. “No, you can’t!”

Maxwell stopped just a foot away. He smirked wickedly and placed two fingers under Wilson’s bearded chin and lifted his head. “Oh, but I _can,_ darling. I can do whatever I want.” His fingers entwined around his hair. “That is unless I am invited to your soiree.”

Wilson grumbled and glowered at Maxwell through his long thick lashes. He muttered and cursed to himself. “Fine. You can come.”

Maxwell hummed and clicked his tongue in glee. “As I thought.” He squeezed Wilson’s cheek then continued the path towards the camp. 

Wilson glared daggers at his back, rubbed his cheek then followed Maxwell. 

* * *

The camp was coming into view and Wilson couldn’t help but drag his feet with slumped shoulders. He had been looking forward to this event and, of course, Maxwell was the one to ruin his good mood and lifted spirits. He just knew the shadow king’s presence would lower morale.

He sighed heavily as they got closer.

“Now now, my dear, will you quit sighing? You sound as if you are not happy I am intending.” Maxwell smirked over his shoulder towards him. 

Wilson glowered spitefully at the taller. “Of course not! You’re going to ruin it someway.” He huffed. 

Maxwell waved him off. “Nonsense. I have no intention of ruining it. Besides, pal, you should be grateful it is I who is intending and not something else.” He chucked giving Wilson a knowing look. 

Wilson narrowed his eyes further and curled his hands into fists. 

“Ah so here we are.” Maxwell said when they approached the entrance to the camp. 

Their crunching on the snow alerted Willow first. She perked up and grinned, running to greet “Santa”. 

“He’s here everyone! ‘Santa’ is here!” She called out to the campers. “He’s-“

Willow stopped at the entrance, frozen stiff; not from the snow but the appearance of the shadow king strolling towards her. Her eyes widened then narrowed. She caught Wilson trailing behind the taller with his tail between his legs. She glared at him then back at Maxwell. 

The sound of the others running to join her side temporarily pulled her attention from Maxwell. The excited chatter of their camp leader’s return excited everyone but just as they caught sight of Maxwell they froze and fell silent. 

“Well this is the least merry crowd of faces I’ve ever seen.” Maxwell chortled. He took a drag and grinned with his sharp teeth digging into the cigar. He overlooked the campers grim faces and chuckled in his throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Willow demanded of the taller. 

“Say pal, I was invited to join your soiree by your lovely bearded scientist.” He smiled and walked past her and the rest of the survivors as arrogant and entitled as ever. 

Willow burned daggers into his skull then shifted her gaze to Wilson. “Wilson!! How could you invite him?!” She hissed. 

“Wolfgang doesn’t like tall scary man!” 

“Yea Wilsön! We were all lööking förward tö this party!” Added Wigfrid

“As I recall this party was exclusively for us and the children.” Ms. Wickerbottom commented as well. “Now look at their faces”

Wilson huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah I’m aware of it guys, but I didn’t even invite him! He threatened to ruin the party if he didn’t come.”

“He’s ruining it already and it hasn’t even begun!” Snapped Willow. 

Wes nodded. 

“I know that!” Wilson snarled back. “Don’t you think I don’t know that?! I don’t want him and his grabby hands anywhere near me or us but it’s either he ruins the party or the deerclops does. Quite frankly I’d rather have him than that behemoth.”

They fell silent. 

“He threatened to send the deerclops if he didn’t participate?” Asked Ms. Wickerbottom. 

Wilson nodded. 

“He really is an asshole.” Willow grumbled. 

“I can hear you.” Maxwell said from a few feet away. 

Willow glowered and whirled around, hands on her hips, back bent forward as she mean-mugged him. “You’re an asshole!” She shouted at him.

“Language, Willow” Ms. Wickerbottom tsked. “There are children present.”

Willow huffed and folded her arms. “As if they haven’t heard me curse before.” 

“Swearing is unbefitting of a young lady.”

“I don’t give a f-“

“Enough!” Wilson shouted. “Look, let’s just try to enjoy our party. Just ignore him. That’s what I plan on doing.”

“Gööd luck with that, Wilsön.” 

“Pft, yea, what Wigfrid said. Maxwell is always in you like flies on shi-“

“Willow!” Wickerbottom shrieked. 

Wilson took a deep breath and shook his head. He exchanged brief glances with Wolfgang and Wes who mirrored his head shake. It was easy to see no one was thrilled about Maxwell’s prescience but looking at the saddened disappointed faces of his kids, Wilson was going to do everything in his power to give them a good Christmas. 

He walked over to the kids hiding behind Wolfgang and knelt before them. He offered a smile. “Don’t worry kids. We’re still going to have a good Christmas. Don’t let scary Maxwell ruin it for you.”

“He has already ruined the mood and the party never started.” Wendy said in her monotone voice. 

“Yeah everyone is sad already.” Agreed Webber. He glanced at Maxwell then stepped forward to whisper in Wilson’s ear. “He’s scary. We don’t like him.”

“I know. No one does. It’s just for a few hours okay? We still have all that food Warly has been cooking up for us. Afterwards we will open presents.” Wilson’s smile grew. “You’re excited about that aren't you?”

Webber beamed. “Yeah!”

Abigail whispered something to Wendy to which her twin interpreted “Abigail is sad because she doesn’t think she’ll get a present.”

Wilson glanced up at the ghost and saw the sad expression on her ghostly face. “Of course, Abigail has presents.” He smiled at the ghost. “We didn’t forget about you.”

Abigail’s expression changed. She beamed and flew around Wilson happily. 

Wilson chuckled. “How about you kids go ask Warly if he needs any help?”

“Okay Wilson!” They said and scurried off to the kitchen section of their camp.

Wilson smiled and watched them go. His eyes drifted back to the adults cautiously returning into the camp. He understood their uncertainty. His eyes flashed towards Maxwell who was gazing at the large evergreen tree with the decorations, hands clasped behind his back as if he was in an art gallery. 

The young man looked around his surroundings and admired the decor his group put up. They’d stitched pine tree branches together to make a garland filled with light flowers around their stone wall. They strung popcorn and berries around the tents and other sections of their camp. They created wreaths and build snowmen to make it look festive.

It seemed Maxwell also observed the decorations the children crafted for he said, “This decor is mediocre at best, but I suppose you make use of what you have.” He turned to look at Wilson and smiled. 

Wilson frowned with a glare. “The kids worked hard on the decorations, Maxwell.”

Maxwell chuckled and turned to look over his shoulder at the man clad in red with a coy grin. “Not hard enough it appears.”

Wilson was fuming. He mumbled curse words under his cold breath and walked over to the large table they were setting for their feast. 

There was a large red tablecloth covering the handcrafted table. Woodie, Wes and Ms. Wickerbottom worked hard in their project which Wilson deemed successful. Woodie was a skilled woodworker, able to make anything into a beautiful wooden art structure. Wes didn’t crochet like Wickerbottom instead he knitted. Both usually mended ripped clothes or provided with new ones. However, despite their differences in their usage of yarn, the work they’d created for the tablecloth was beautiful and showed their shill in their craft.

Wes and Wolfgang worked together to set the table with their mismatching and handmade silverware, plates and glasses. Webber and Wendy appeared out of the kitchen section and placed the finished dishes on the table before they raced back to grab another.

“This is looking really good, guys!” Wilson praised.

The gang turned and smiled at their leader’s praise. He turned and saw Wigfrid and Wickerbottom placing all the presents under the tree. Their eyes flickered weary at the shadow King. He said something to them which did nothing to ease the expressions from their faces. Wilson huffed and wished Maxwell hadn’t intruded on this joyous occasion.

“Wilson! Wilson!”

Wilson glanced over towards Webber at his waist. He smiled at the spider boy. “Yes, Webber?”

“Warly said dinner is ready! It’s time to sit down!”

“Okay, Webber. Why don’t you let-” He was about to tell Webber to inform Wigfrid and Wickerbottom but they were still near Maxwell and he didn’t want his young innocent ward anywhere near that man. “-why don’t you go take your seat next to Wendy and Wolfgang. I’ll inform Ms. Wickerbottom and Wigfrid.”

“And... Maxwell?” Webber’s smile faltered as his white eyes glanced towards the tall man.

Wilson sighed. “Yeah, just stay next to Wolfgang. He is big and strong and will keep you safe, okay?”

“Okay, Wilson!” Webber skedaddled towards the middle where Wendy and Wolfgang were taking their seat.

Wilson walked through the thin layer of snow, boots crunching loudly until he was close enough in hearing range for the three.

“Wigfrid, Ms. Wickerbottom and... you” he glanced sideways at Maxwell then reverted his attention to the ones he actually liked. “Dinner is ready!”

“Oh, thank Thor!” Wigfrid exhaled. She tossed whatever gifts were in her hand onto the ground near the tree. “I’m so hungry! This warrior wants her meaaat!” She said through her teeth with excitement. She trotted past the others towards the table.

Ms. Wickerbottom scowled and started muttering about the other female being disrespectful towards the gifts. She turned to Wilson. “Thank you for informing us, dearie.”

“Anytime, Ms. W.” He offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you to the table.”

Wickerbottom chuckled into her hand. “You are truly a gentleman, Mr. Higgsbury.” She accepted his arm.

“Say pal, don’t I get an escort?” Maxwell teased.

“No” Wilson snapped quickly. He scowled and quickly escorted Wickerbottom towards the table.

Maxwell chuckled at Wilson’s reaction. He stared after the cute thing, inhaling the tobacco from his cigar. He grinned and tossed the bud into the snow then followed them.

Everyone was seated and talking excitedly about the food in front of them. Wilson brought Ms. Wickerbottom to the seat beside Wes and Willow. Wilson turned to take his seat at the head of the table but stopped when he found Maxwell taking the seat for himself. Everyone stared at the man in their leader’s spot then turned to Wilson. Maxwell glanced at Wilson with a knowing look. His black eyes challenging him to say something about taking the chair. However, Wilson wasn’t going to play this game. He didn’t care where he sat. In fact, the seat beside Wes looked more appealing anyways. 

He looked at Wes who was staring at him with big blue eyes, a light blush to his cheeks as Wilson took the seat next to him. He bowed his head trying to hide the small smile on the edge of his lips. A blushing one on Wilson’s own face appeared. His cheeks suddenly warmer than they’d been all winter. Suddenly, Wilson was tugged away from Wes, instead taking the empty spot to Maxwell’s left. 

“Hey!” Wilson protested. He turned to glare at the shadow king.

“As the leader of this band of misfits, it is only polite to sit beside your guest, is it not?” Maxwell’s tone dark and dripping with venom.

There was a dark gleam in his already cold dark eyes. The twinkle of envy flickering like an ember. Had he been jealous of what just happened between him and Wes? Wilson glanced back at Wes who seemed saddened from the distance between them.

“I don’t want to sit next to you.” Wilson tried to stand and retake his spot beside Wes, however, Maxwell snatched Wilson’s arm with a firm grip. Wilson hissed and grimaced at Maxwell. He could feel his cold body bruising under the man’s hold.

“Enlighten me, pal.” Maxwell all but snarled.

Wilson could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He sighed through his nose and slowly sat down. He didn’t want to cause a scene nor enrage the shadow king. The threat of ruining the party furthermore clung to him like the cold winter air.

Warly finally made an appearance. He left the kitchen with the main dish: roasted koalaphant flank. “Magnifique! It is done!” He hummed happily towards the table. He smiled at the hungry faces almost drooling at the large roasted meat; Wigfrid especially. He placed the dish at the center of the table.

“This all looks delicious, Warly!” Wilson praised.

Warly smiled and glanced at the head of the chair but shrieked when he saw Maxwell there instead. “Wh-wh-what are you doing here??” He glanced around at the others for some explanation.

“Say pal, I was invited to this feast.” answered the shadow king.

“Pft yea right!” Willow snapped. She took the spot to Wilson’s left. She glared at Maxwell then looked at Warly to answer the chef’s question. “He basically threatened to ruin our party if he didn’t come.”

“Willow!” Wilson scolded.

“What!?” She stood “He did! Threatened to bring the deerclops!”

“Deerclops!?” Webber and Wendy gasped in terror.

“Willow!” Wilson and Wickerbottom spoke in unison.

“Fear not, little humans! Mighty Wolfgang will take care of any deerclops that comes!” Wolfgang tried to comfort the kids. “Wolfgang protect smol humans.”

Maxwell laughed. “Oh please, _you_ protect them? You’re terrified of the smallest monster and the dark.”

Wolfgang glanced down at the table. His expression saddened at the truth of those words.

“Hey, who isn’t afraid of the dark here, eh?” Woodie stood up for Wolfgang.

“I’m not.” Wendy said. “There is nothing to be afraid in the dark swallowing abyss of the night. We will all perish in time. Some sooner rather than later. I wish it was soon for me.”

Abigail shook her head and pat Wendy’s head with her ghostly tail.

“Hard to be afraid when you are a shell of a person with a ghost constantly following you, I suppose.” Maxwell said.

“Maxwell!”

Again, the shadow king laughed. “Come now. Let bygones be bygones and let’s enjoy this feast.” 

Warly exchanged looks with Wilson and the rest before he moved to cautiously to take his seat to Maxwell’s right. 

The air around them was tense and awkward as they all looked at each other and then Maxwell. 

Wilson decided to break the ice. He smiled at Warly and praised his cooking. “This all looks amazingly delicious, Warly!”

Indeed, it did. It was festive and fancy. Sweet potato souffle, creamy potato puree, fancy spiraled tubers, flower salas, fruit medley, Koalaphant honey ham, stugged eggplant and ratatouille with fresh brewed apple cider. Finding Warly was a blessing for the campers. He could turn seeds, berries and carrots into a five-star meal, and it would feed them for days. 

Warly grinned at the praise. “It was certainly a challenge but thanks to Wigfrid hunting down every animal I needed for my recipes it was simple.”

“I live för battle...and meat!!” 

The table laughed. 

“Well let’s dig in shall we!”

They began helping themselves to the dishes. The awkward air easily vaporized as they dug into the food. There was a happy chatter, silverware clattering with plates and munching. 

“Oh my goooooood Warly!” Willow moaned with food in her mouth. “This food is to die for!”

“Don’t speak with your mouth open, young lady.” Wickerbottom scolded. She shook her head. “The ill-mannered youth these days.” she mumbled. She peeked to the side and saw Wigfrid shoveling her meat into her mouth. Her teeth tearing apart the flesh. “Wigfrid could you try to be more lady-like? At least during a nice dinner like this.”

“I have had my eye ön this meat since I slayed it!” Wigfrid glanced over at Warly. “Yöu sure knöw höw tö make a mean meal!”

Warly smiled. “Thank you. My nana taught me what I know.”

“Your nana taught you well, eh.” Woodie agreed. 

“You spoil us with your cooking, Warly.” Wilson nodded.

“Say pal-” Maxwell pulled his fork from his mouth. He chewed on the meat, the flesh tearing against sharp teeth. The taste savoring in his mouth. He knew he had the attention of the survivors. He wanted to keep them on the edge of their seat, waiting to hear what he said regardless if they actually wanted to hear it. He swallowed the meat then summoned a cloth napkin and pat his lips with the edge of it. He turned his attention to the chef. “-I’m impressed. The quality of that meal would put world renowned chefs to shame. It was most delicious. I admit it is almost better than my meals I receive in my nice warm domain.”

“I... Thank you, sir.” Warly was taken aback by the compliment of the Constant’s ruler.

Willow however was unimpressed. “Then why don’t you go back there and eat them instead?!” 

“Easy girl.” Woodie said.

Maxwell chuckled. He dipped his sad excuse of a fork into the meat. “Well my dear, isn’t Christmas about enjoying one’s company? I know I am.” His onyx eyes flickered between Wes and Wilson. His smile growing the longer his eyes lingered on them. Both males frowned.

Everyone felt awkward especially Wes and Wilson. They felt Maxwell’s gaze burning through their skulls. Slowly, chatter started back up after they gained the courage to continue.

Maxwell observed quietly. His ears tuned in on each conversation. His eyes drifted from conversations between Wickerbottom and Woodie over to Wolfgang and Wes. He watched as the Italian oaf conversed with the mime boy. It was a ridiculous sight. Wes smiled and nodded at the words said to him. He sure was a cute thing, that baby faced clown. His rounded rosy cheeks, wide innocent blue eyes framed with thick black lashes. Maxwell remembered when he had the mime locked away. He had his fun with the silent boy, but his silence grew tiresome and he displeased him. Hence why he locked him away in his invisible prison tied to his statues.

“I see you still cannot speak, Wes.” Maxwell said as he took a bite of the Koalaphant ham. “You weren’t much of a talker inside your prison. I grew quite bored of you. I was about to eradicate you had it not been for the Italian oaf, warrior princess, and our charming scientist freeing you.”

Wes blinked at Maxwell. His cheeks reddened from memories past, eyes falling to his meal and smile fading completely into a frown. 

Wilson noticed how uncomfortable Wes was becoming in this situation. He glowered at Maxwell. “Then it’s a good thing we saved Wes.”

Wes smiled at Wilson. 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, eh?” Woodie glowered at Maxwell.

The taller man chuckled. “I would but none of you rise to that stature. However, I suppose you almost do in that abomination form during a full moon.”

Woodie wanted to fight back but he didn’t. The curse upon him was one he was ashamed of. He knew during full moons he had to leave camp and sleep deep in the forest so his Werebeaver form didn’t terrify the kids or ruin the camp. 

It was like that for the remainder of the dinner. Maxwell picking on people’s flaws and making them feel like absolute shit. He didn’t pick on everyone though. He refrained from Ms. Wickerbottom, Wigfrid and Warly. Everyone else was a victim to Maxwell. Slowly everyone lost their appetite and one by one left the table to sit next to the Christmas tree.

Wilson glowered as he helped Ms. Wickerbottom and Wes with the dishes.

“Well that was an absolute disaster.” Wilson said as he walked into the kitchen. He placed the remaining dishes beside Wes, whom was washed then handed to Ms. Wickerbottom to dry. “At least Warly’s food was delicious.”

“Did you expect it to be anything else with Maxwell?” inquired Wickerbottom. She glanced towards Wilson.

Wilson sighed. “I suppose not.” 

“Mr. Higgsbury, don’t let that awful man get you down.”

“Easy for you to say. He didn’t belittle you like he did the rest of us.”

Ms. Wickerbottom glanced at the two saddened young men. She frowned and glanced over at the other campers who bore the same expression.

She took a deep breath and said, “Gentlemen, let’s forget about the dishes for now. I think the children and the rest of us are in need of cheering up.” She smiled at Wilson. “I believe it is time for Santa to hand out the presents.”

Wilson nodded. “I think you are right, Ms. Wickerbottom.” He turned to Wes with a wide smile. “What do you think, Wes?”

Wes smiled and nodded eagerly.

The three of them walked from the kitchen over to the tree where the kids were looking at the presents and the adults were either glaring at Maxwell or making conversation a good distance away from said man.

“Hey guys, why don’t we do presents now?” Wilson suggested.

“Yeah!” Webber and Wendy said together. Abigail flew around them with excitement.

“How about you kids sit on Santa Wilson’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas?” Willow suggested.

“Why bother?” Maxwell chuckled. “Nothing they ask ‘Santa’ will be in those boxes.”

They all glowered at the ruler.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving, Maxwell?” Wilson snarled.

Maxwell reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar. He pulled out a cutter and cut the tip of the cigar. “If I leave, I shall send a guest as my replacement.” He arched a brow and gave a knowing look at Wilson. “Is that what you want, doll face?”

“No” Wilson grumbled.

“As I thought.” Maxwell waved his hand, calling a throne-like chair to appear for him to sit in. He huffed his cigar and waved at Wilson. “Carry on, _Santa”_ he smirked.

Wilson ignored him. He turned his attention to the kids. He knelt before them and smiled. “Do you guys want to sit on my lap like with the real Santa?”

“What’s the point?” Asked Wendy. “He’s right. Sitting on your lap telling you what we want for Christmas is nothing but broken dark despair. I want to go back home or perish but it isn’t a reality.”

Wilson’s smile faltered. He looked over at Webber. “What about you, kiddo?”

His usually happy and enthusiastic spider son had the same saddened demeanor as Wendy. “No, Wendy is right. There isn’t anything under that tree I really want.” He sniffled. “I want to go home and see my daddy again.”

“I know you do, bud. We all want to go home.” He glared spitefully at the grinning Maxwell then back at the spider child. “I’m trying my best to cheer you guys up.” He sighed sadly. He took the Santa hat off and ran his fingers through his wilting hair. “I know I can’t give you guys a real Christmas. I can’t give you what you really want under the tree, but I can make the best out of this situation. We’re all trying.” Wilson gestured to their flock. 

However, the kids remained saddened by the reality of the situation. It seemed to put a damper on everyone’s mood. All but two. Wes and Maxwell. 

While Maxwell snickered and wallowed in their suffering, Wes walked over to the tree and picked up two presents. He walked over to Wilson’s side and knelt beside him. The kids and Wilson turned to him and stared at the mime. Wes’s smile grew as he offered the children the presents. 

The two took the gift from his hands. They stared at the mime then Wilson and began opening their gifts.

Webber’s eyes widened and a big grin appeared on his face as he unwrapped his present. “My own Spider-Man costume!!” He exclaimed. 

Of course, it wasn’t a genuine costume, but it looked pretty damn close! It had the same colors and the stitching was great. If they had actual fabric it would’ve been an exact replica of Spider-Man himself. 

“Wes did you make this??”

Wes’ smile grew as he nodded. 

“Thank you!!” Webber glopped Wes, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!”

Wes silently chuckled then pat Webber’s back. 

“Wes this is truly a lovely veil.” Wendy said as she held up a gorgeous mourning veil with well-crafted fake roses. She smiled at Wes and joined in the embrace. 

The scene warmed Wilson’s heart along with the others. All except for Maxwell who rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

Wes’s gifts seemed to boost morale for the rest of the group started smiling and joined in passing out their gifts. From Wes and Wigfrid they received new clothes. Wigfrid hunted the animal and scavenged for what Wes needed and stitched them together. Warly crafted them each their favorite candy treat. Woodie whittled them each their own unique figurine of themselves. Wickerbottom made them all books. She’d remembered every book she’d ever read and wrote down the ones she thought the others would enjoy from their selected interest. Wolfgang and Willow crafted everyone their own lighter. Lastly, Wilson gave the kids the touched-up toys and other trinkets he’d found which he improved to the others. 

“I see you have all exchanged your gifts to each other. I believe it is my turn to exchange gifts.” Maxwell spoke

“Scary tall man has gifts?” Asked Wolfgang. 

“Yes, you oaf, I have gifts for you all.” He snapped his fingers. “This is a Christmas party after all.”

Red packages with black creepy bows resembling Maxwell’s shadow hands appeared in their hold. They looked down at the presents with skeptical unsure expressions. 

“Go on. Open them.” The shadow king urged. 

One by one they opened their gifts which only made their frowns deepen. 

They were all terrible gifts. 

Wes received a megaphone to which he couldn’t use for he had no voice. Ms Wickerbottom received the worlds comfiest pilow to which her insomnia didn’t allow her to sleep. Webber received a broken nightlight much like the one he his father created just for him. Wendy received a worn light-yellow dress that once belonged to Abigail. It was the dress she died in. Warly received a broken gramaphone to which he used to play for his nana. Wolfgang received a box of mini monsters—which he shrieked and ran away from. Woodie received a box of birds—he also freaked out and started screaming they were evil as they chased him. Wigfrid received a box full of mushrooms, carrots, potatoes and other veggies. Willow just received a box of ice. 

Willow looked around and stared at all the unhappy faces then at her own in disgust. 

“Wow Maxwell. Charcoal would have been better than this.”

The others agreed. 

Wilson opened his present from Maxwell and frowned when he found the box contained a razor. Wilson looked up at Maxwell with a scowl to which the shadow king smirked.

“A razor? Really?”

“Why yes, my dear, I much prefer you with a clean-shaven face. You are far most appealing when I can caress that pretty face.”

Wilson frowned deeply and curled his lip in disgust.

“Now then you may release the gifts you have for me.” Maxwell said. 

The survivors looked at each other than at Maxwell. 

“We dönt have anything för yöu.”

“You invited yourself to the party, Maxwell.” Said Ms. Wickerbottom 

“What makes you think we have anything for you?” Asked Willow. 

Maxwell feigned a frown. He knew very well none had prepared a gift for him. However, he continued to act. 

“And yet I was able to produce gifts on short notice.”

“That’s ‘cause you have your magic!” Webber said. 

Maxwell stared at Webber. “Perhaps the monster child is correct. It was short notice and you are without magic.”

“There’s no such thing.” Wilson mumbled. 

Maxwell thought for a moment then grinned. He clasped his arms behind his back as he addressed them. “Very well then. I shall make you a deal. I can very well see my presence isn’t wanted-“

“-it’s never been wanted” Willow whispered to Wilson who chuckled. 

“-and it seems my gifts are unappreciated. So, I will depart after one holiday tradition is completed.”

“What tradition is that, eh?”

Maxwell extended a long arm above his head. He snapped his fingers and mistletoe appeared in the pinch of his fingers. He snickered at their wide eyes. “To be kissed under the mistletoe by none other than Wilson P. Higgsbury.” He turned and smirked at Wilson. 

“You had this planned the whole time!” Wilson accused

Maxwell grinned and shrugged. 

“Just give scary man a kiss, tiny hair man” Wolfgang urged. He was desperate to get Maxwell out of here. 

Willow, Wes, Wigfrid and Ms. Wickerbottom made a face. They knew about Maxwell’s infatuation with Wilson. 

“I don’t really want to” Wilson said with a deep frown. 

“Wilson, the sooner you do the sooner he leaves.” insisted Woodie. He leaned towards him. 

His words were true, and he definitely wanted to get Maxwell out of here. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glared through his lashes at Maxwell who wiggled the mistletoe tauntingly.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, let’s get this over with.” Wilson groaned.

He sulked towards an eager Maxwell, his boots practically slamming the earth so hard he’d start a quake and fall through the caves down to the molten core of this world. He reached Maxwell and glowered like an angry child. 

Maxwell chuckled. He took a step towards the shorter man. He quickly grabbed Wilson’s waist, pulling him close until their bodies touched. His arm snaked around him. Maxwell dipped Wilson down towards the ground. Wilson gasped, thinking he was going to be dropped instead Maxwell leaned forward and claimed Wilson’s mouth with his.

The bristle of Wilson’s moustache tickled the top of Maxwell’s upper lip. He growled in the low part of his throat like a feral animal warning someone of being too close. He _really_ hated facial hair, especially on the young scientist. He was so attractive without it. Hopefully, the cute little thing would use the razor and destroy this blasted face fur. 

Aside from the facial hair, Wilson’s lips were warm and soft, almost silken like pillows against his own. His lips were sweet and lingered with the taste of a chocolate treat the chef had given him previously. Maxwell suckled on the younger’s lip, wanting to taste that sweet treat and savor it for his own to reminisce. Maxwell breathed deeply, inhaling Wilson’s earthy pine tree scent. He hated the woods and anything that involved it, but the scent seemed to fit his favorite survivor. It was cool and minty with a dash of pure clean snow. He took another deep breath wanting to inhale more of that scent.

The hand above which still held the mistletoe slowly fell like an angel from heaven and moved to grip the hair on his cheek. The mistletoe fell from his hand and landed in the snow. His long slender fingers curled and entwined in his beard, his gloved thumb tracing over the smooth face not embedded with hair. His hand moved to the back of his head and gripped the dark raven hair.

Maxwell forced Wilson’s lips apart, prying them apart like a crowbar on a nailed plank. Wilson tried protesting. His hands shoving against his strong chest. He tried to recoil away from the lips invading him but Maxwell’s firm grip on his neck kept him from doing so. 

To Wilson the kiss was intrusive and dominating. Not all this sweet softness the other was experiencing. Maxwell’s lips were large and thick, they engulfed Wilson’s mouth, teeth nibbling his bottom lip, tongue invading like the Huns in China. He tasted like rich Cuban tobacco and red wine? Where did he get wine? Perhaps he had transmuted the apple cider--the bastard. His lips melded into Wilson’s, more persuasive, dominating his mouth, forcing him to breathe from his nose rather than the mouth. Maxwell was controlling every second of the kiss, where his tongue moved for the next taste of him, his hands strong, preventing him from moving in any sense of the word.

Finally, it ended. Wilson was freed from Maxwell’s forceful suffocating mouth. He nearly forgotten to breathe and took a gulp of air like he was drowning underwater.

“Very well done, darling.” Maxwell praised, patting Wilson’s flushed cheeks.

Wilson glared and wiped away the excess saliva from the bottom of his lip. He felt his cheeks heated in embarrassment. Everyone watched Maxwell practically devour him in a crude intimate way. He prayed the children hadn’t watched. He braved a peek towards them and to his relief found Ms. Wickerbottom had shielded them. He truly loved that woman.

“Now then a deal is a deal” He announced and turned to address everyone. “I shall take my leave. Have a holly jolly Christmas, dear friends.” He chuckled. He hovered his right arm in front of his torso then bowed elegantly then vanished in a wave of shadows.

The group released a deep sigh of relief. The tense air was finally lifted and replaced with relaxation and ease.

“Thank fucking God!” Willow sighed

“Willow!” scolded Wickerbottom. “Language in front of the children!”

The groups started to speak amongst each other about the day’s events and how grateful they were that Maxwell was gone.

“Excuse me! Pardone!” Warly called out.

Everyone turned to Warly. “Now that I have your attention, I believe we should thank our leader for having to endure something so terrifying and disgusting as having to kiss Maxwell to get him to leave.” Warly beamed at Wilson. He raised his hands and started to applaud.

Willow smiled and followed the gesture. Wes also then Wickerbottom. Soon everyone was applauding and cheering for Wilson. The embarrassed man slowly straightened up and smiled back at everyone. “Don’t mention it- _ever_!”

The group started laughing.

Wilson beamed and stood with his hands on his hips. “Now let's get this party really started! Woodie and Willow--add more wood to that fire! Warly- warm up that cider and get the hot chocolate going.”

“Aye Aye!” They replied and set off to do their tasks.

“Wilson?” Webber approached him and asked with big white eyes. “Can we play with our toys?”

Wilson nodded with a smile and tousled his hair. “Of course, Webber.”

“Yaay! C’mon Wendy!” Webber ran and grabbed Wendy’s hand and ran towards the toys they’d received and started playing together.

Wilson stepped down from the little stage Maxwell had created during their kiss. He bent down and picked up the mistletoe from the snow. He held the plant in his fingers, twirling the stem. He glanced up and instantly found Wes staring at him with a shy smile. Wilson blushed and bit his lip, trying to hide his grin. He glanced back at Wes, smile growing full on his face. He held the plant an inch over his head and dangled it. Wes giggled in his hands then walked towards Wilson. They glanced around to make sure no one was looking. Wes cupped Wilson’s cheeks, smushing his lips slightly together then leaned forward and gently planted his black lipped mouth on Wilson’s. 

It was a very short kiss--unfortunately. It was brief but so much more than just a simple peck. It was slow and purposeful. Their mouths met in a delicate plush meld of lips. Wes’ lips were warm and soft, like a kitten cuddling up against the fireside. Wilson’s eyes fell under the spell of Wes’ musk of licorice and peppermint. He licked his lips wanting to savor that taste to that aroma which was greater than his sense of smell; the taste far better than anything he could’ve imagined. He suckled Wes’ bottom lip, nibbling it between his teeth, caressing it with soothing movements of his mouth. His hands rose to Wes’ soft hair and fisted it as he dove into another dive of Wes’ kisses. 

A moment or five passed before Wilson forced himself to separate from those tasty lips. A light smacking sound earned from their mouths breaking apart. Both their cheeks redder from the intimate embrace rather than the cold of new snow falling from the sky. 

Wes fanned himself and smiled at Wilson.

Wilson leaned forward and smirked flirtatiously. “You’re going to need more than a fan to cool yourself next time.” 

Wes blushed and cupped his own cheeks with his mouth open in an O. Wilson winked and quickly planted a quick peck on Wes’s red cheeks then walked away to cool his heated body.

The fire was a blaze and the drinks were made and served. Everyone circled around the fire with their warm drinks, talking amongst each other. Some read the books they received from Wickerbottom or worked on a project they received as a gift. 

The kids sat on the snow playing marbles with Abby. The ghost said something to Wendy who turned and looked at Wilson drinking his cider and conversing with Wigfrid.

“Wilson?”

Wilson turned to Wendy. “Yes, Wendy?”

She got up from the ground and collected the book Abigail received from Wickerbottom and held up the cover to Wilson’s face. “Abigail wants you to read this to everyone.”

Wilson blinked and looked at the book. “ _Twas The Night Before Christmas_?” He took the book and smiled. He turned to Abigail. “I would love to read this for you Abby.”

The ghost twirled happily. She flew towards Wilson and rested on top of his head to look over the book in his hands. Wendy climbed onto Wilson’s lap and Webber followed. They smiled at him and looked at the book in his hands. Wilson wrapped his arms around the kids and opened the book.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at Wilson. They smiled and sipped their warm drinks while they listened to Wilson read the book until the very end.

“He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!’”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and happy holidays!


End file.
